


The Far Too Young To Die

by ECA1988



Series: Fire, Meet Gasoline [3]
Category: Houdini & Doyle (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Series, Pre-Slash, Series Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 03:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8271895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ECA1988/pseuds/ECA1988
Summary: It's off to Budapest! A huge decision leaves one of the group with some serious guilt. Kingsley and Mary are growing up too fast for Arthur's liking.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third installment in the Fire, Meet Gasoline series. This is huge step in a new direction. As always, this is my version of what happens after the series fades to black. Please leave a kudos and comment if you enjoy!

"Dash!" Harry threw his arms around his younger brother. The other man inhaled sharply as he was drawn into the unyielding hug, and glanced briefly at the beautiful young woman behind him, mortified.

"E-Ehrich..." was all he managed.

Arthur, Adelaide and Carlisle were a bit father back, enjoying the spectacle. The young woman behind the embracing brothers approached the other three.

"Hello! Theo told me about the three of you; he and Ehrich have been in touch while you have been in the States." She shook hands with the trio. "I am Wilhelma Rahner; but everyone calls me Bess."

Theo returned promptly, flattening his suit coat. "I see you have not lost your never-failing energy, Ehrich." He flushed slightly at Bess, and stood very close to her.

Harry smiled at the pairing. "It's about time you began courting a young lady," he winked. "Ma had begun to, ah, _worry_ 

Theo blushed angrily, shooting Harry a warning look. Harry winked again, at Bess. "Good natured ribbing, bro. I haven't had my fill, need to catch up while we're here." He smacked his brother on the shoulder, "Let's eat!"

The stop to visit his family in New York City was too brief for Harry. The illusionist had taken an instant liking to Bess, she was far more like Harry than she was Theo, but he could hardly complain. It wasn't as though he couldn't begin to court someone himself; he just didn't have the time. _She'll be my sister eventually._

But he couldn't resist glancing at her more often than not over the next few days. Her laugh was contagious, and she performed magic! He impressed her with his own skill, and she with him, putting poor Dash to shame. Thankfully, no one appeared to realize that Harry was flirting with her.

It was advantageous that they were going back to England that day. Harry wasn't sure how much longer he could've kept up the charade.

Theo and Bess accompanied the other four to the ship's terminal. Everyone exchanged hugs like old family, but when Harry embraced Bess, his stomach exploded with butterflies. He pulled away quickly, disquieted, and she took notice. She looked apologetic, and Harry was ashamed.

The ship withdrew from the dock, and Harry felt a pull in his heart that he couldn't fully explain. Luckily, he had the other three to distract him, and to drive his mind from Bess.

"What a lovely family Harry! I didn't realize the magical talent ran in the blood," Carlisle raised a glass in toast at dinner. "Rather unfair I would think, and even Miss Rahner is rather magical herself!"

Harry's stomach tightened. "Yes, she is a fine addition to the family. We'll have our own family business before long."

Adelaide smiled at him knowingly. He glared at her, daring her to say something. She turned away to speak with Arthur and Carlisle, the smile still upon her lips.

Unfortunately on the way back to their suites, she hung back for him.

"Yes?" He already knew, dammit. He cursed himself for having friends who could read him so easily.

"She's beautiful Harry."

"Yes she is, perfect for my brother. He didn't receive my fierce good looks, and I always wondered if he'd find anyone, permanently stuffed in that straight jacket."

Adelaide placed a hand on his arm. "Either forget her, or say something. You cannot have it both ways."

"You speak from experience."

Adelaide rolled her eyes. "I see Carlisle as nothing more than a colleague."

Harry scoffed. "I'm smarter than that; I think Arthur may be the only one who has no desire to find someone. I choose to forget, although she will most likely marry Theo, and will be a permanent part of the family. As you well know, I have an issue with pushing aside strong emotions. But, we're England bound, and then it's off to Budapest. I'm sure battling deadly terrorists will push all of that from my mind."

Adelaide regarded him with an incisive look, and then bid him goodnight.

Harry was left alone, at the railing, to shuffle through odd feelings. He had been attracted to Adelaide immediately as well, but not with such passion. Yet now, he saw her as only a friend; he would merely have to do the same with Bess.

Barely a week later and England was home again for the other three. Strangely, Harry felt as though he had left his home in New York, despite always feeling so welcome in London.

"I think a week's respite, perhaps?" Carlisle offered. He had detected his new associates' exhaustion, and especially Arthur's desperation to see his children.

They parted then, except Carlisle and Harry, the latter offering to put the former up at the Savoy.

"The Metropole always boasted of having Harry Houdini as their long time guest, I'm surprised you've taken up lodgings at the Savoy."

Harry lied quickly. The truth was known only to Adelaide and Arthur, and it was staying that way. "I celebrated a little too intensely at the Metropole one night, following the successful exhibition of a new illusion. Things got slightly out of hand, and I awoke in the washroom with the suite destroyed. Needless to say, I am no longer their esteemed guest," he forced what he hoped was a believable smile.

"Ah, I remember those years; arising the next morning, oblivious of my surroundings. I fear if I partook in such revelry at my age now, there would be no waking up. Unfortunately those days also happened during my employment at Scotland Yard, I can only imagine that Merring took that into account when he, uh, _let me go_." He pulled at his collar, embarrassed.

Harry laughed genuinely now. He had been very skeptical of this man at first, but nearly a month after making his acquaintance, he considered him a friend. He was still Harry Houdini around him, however. Only Adelaide and Arthur had earned the privilege of knowing Ehrich.

*****

Arthur surprised his children with his homecoming the night they arrived in London; and Kingsley and Mary were overtaken with joy. Vera prepared a true English dinner, which Arthur hadn't realized he'd missed until he took the first bite.

"And school?" Arthur wasted no time in catching up with his children's month without him.

Vera answered for them. "Kingsley is doing very well. Maths and Language marks are just fine; Mary is having difficulty with French."

"French?" Arthur was nonplussed. "They're teaching French now?"

Vera nodded. "Each child was sent home with a list of languages that were being offered. I had them each choose the one they felt they'd enjoy the most. Kingsley chose German."

"I know neither French nor German, how do they expect parents to be able to assist their children with their homework?"

"Hire a tutor, I'd imagine." Vera swept the dinner plates from the table, and replaced them with dessert. "Unlike you Doctor Doyle, most parents do not concern themselves as much with their children's education."

Vera then smiled at Mary, prompting her. "Mary, tell your father about your other marks."

Mary shifted eagerly. "Language is satisfactory, as well as Music. My Maths and Science marks are the best however." She said, positively glowing with pride.

"Her path to becoming a doctor is progressing quickly," Vera patted Mary's shoulder.

Arthur stopped mid bite, amazed. "A doctor?"

Mary blushed. "Yes, Father. I'd like to become a physician like you. I want to find a cure for tuberculosis in Mother's memory."

The author attempted to hide his tears from his children, but found he was unsuccessful. He got up and drew both into a tight hug.

After he let go, Kingsley finally spoke up. "Women can't become doctors Mary; they become nurses. That's what your instructor told you."

Mary looked defiant, and Arthur immediately saw Touie in her. "People say that women cannot become officers as well, and yet Constable Stratton has done just that."

Arthur laughed. "Very well said, Mary; and she is right Kingsley. Women must work harder, but it is possible. Mary, you will be a physician one day, if that is the path you wish to take. This is a new century, who knows what will be achieved by anyone?"

He found he had sorely missed tucking his children into bed, and reading them a story. Was it his imagination, or had they both grown? An uneasy feeling unsettled him as he made his way downstairs to the study. _After the end of this_ , he swore, _I'm not leaving them again._

Settling in front of his typewriter, he found he had nothing to write. He had hoped his absence would quell the thronging mass of Holmes' fans ready to wring his neck if he didn't bring the detective back from the dead. Sadly, it had only incensed them. The occasional threat arrived in the mail, and he was starting to grow so very weary of worrying for his children's safety. So far there had been no action on the threats; perhaps Arthur having so public a relationship with Scotland Yard was deterring them from acting.

_He's not coming back!_ He yelled in his own mind.

_I very much doubt that_ , an unknown, yet very well-known voice intruded on the author's ruminations. Arthur lit his pipe insolently, and set a record on his gramophone; he would silence Holmes by force then.

*****

Carlisle was excessively pleased with the look on Merring's face when he entered the latter's office the morning after his arrival.

"You didn't even provide me a chance to deny your personal involvement on this case. You have been discharged, Mr. Rutger." The use of Carlisle's actual surname startled him for a split second, but he effortlessly recovered.

Smiling as he always did, but with a hint of hostility, Carlisle took a seat, uninvited. This only drew more ire from the Chief.

"Constable Stratton has not the authority to permit you to move forward with this case. You have served your function as an international emissary. We put you up in that ridiculous house, and tolerated all of your misdeeds at your behest, and you have the gall to follow her here, and expect to be given license to continue?" He shook his head, furious. "You've always been a right pain in the arse, Rutger, from day one. I see why she took to you; she's always thinking she's above the law as well."

Carlisle's rage flared. "It is due to Constable Stratton that you have this evidence piled in front of your nose at this very moment! She is willing to do what most may not, and yet you still impede her success at every turn. When you first contacted me, disclosing to me that you had released the case to her, I honestly thought you a changed man. Now I see that I was correct, however it is because you are far more infuriating and close-minded than before."

With that, he swept from the office and over to Adelaide's desk. She was completely absorbed and was unaware of his arrival.

"Constable Stratton," he started gently, not wanting to startle her.

"Oh! Carlisle, forgive me; I was trying to make good on some of these contacts." She looked frazzled.

"We should break momentarily from this drudgery," Carlisle implored, waving his hand at the massive pile of papers filed neatly on her desk.

"What? No! I have far too much evidence to put together before we leave for Budapest. You are more than welcome to assist me, as it would take marginally less time."

"I may have enraged Merring a bit," he whispered. "Perhaps we should take a breather, visit Arthur or Harry?" He all but had her out the door.

"I've dealt with an irate Merring countless times, I'm sure I can handle it," she continued to work.

Carlisle was left helpless. Looking defiantly back at the Chief's office, he sat and wrote every connection in he had down on a small piece of stationary. He returned to the Chief and threw it on his desk.

"There, my references. Contact them, and you will learn just how useful I will continue to be. Forget the past; we're contending with a force that could potentially be catastrophic to the future. I am already privy to enough sensitive information to simply follow this group wherever they travel, besides. I will not sit idly by allowing innocents to perish because of a turbulent past that you will not let fade. You will see far better results if I have the backing of Scotland Yard."

Merring held up the list, debating. He smiled reluctantly, "Then I will contact them. As always, you never fail to both impress and anger me, and always in the same day. I believe you have changed as well, Warren, and for the better. I expect a hell of a turn out when this is all said and done."

"As per usual, Chief." He turned to leave the office, honestly amazed that that had worked. The subtle use of his first name had not escaped his ears; it had been over a decade since he had heard it.

He returned to Adelaide, who had witnessed the whole scene.

"Perhaps I am _not_ the expert in the art of dealing with Merring that you are. It is evident that I could stand to learn a few tricks." she laughed. "I believe we should check in on Arthur and Harry and give them the details of our voyage."

*****

The group agreed to convene at Arthur's house over lunch, and he was grateful for the distraction, perhaps his writing days were over. He had made one of the toughest decisions of his life last night and had slept terribly. Taking his place once again in front of his typewriter, his mind was bedlam.

Half an hour later, Harry arrived alone.

"Wow, Doc, you look rough."

"Thank you for the astute observation, Harry," he quipped, exhausted. "I daresay your gift of a new typewriter may have been for naught."

Harry shrugged. "Trouble writing? Give yourself a break, we just returned from America. This week was to be like a vacation...you haven't the faintest idea of how to relax, do you?"

"No."

Harry laughed. "I already knew that. Perhaps I can teach you? You need to have fun with your kids, go on a date, _something!_ "

At the word "date", Arthur threw Harry a violent look. Harry continued, apologetic. "Okay, that piece of advice may be for me, sorry. Nonetheless, you need to socialize, come to one of my after parties before we leave."

"I'm not going."

"Oh fine, I figured you wouldn't."

"No, I mean I'm not going to Budapest."

Shock nearly bowled Harry over. "Sorry, what?"

"I can't. Just in this past month, I have missed so much with my children. Mary has revealed that she wishes to become a doctor, while Kingsley has expressed interest in science and writing. They are learning new languages, and they're growing up before my eyes! Touie died less than a year ago, they need me. And what if something was to go sideways there and I don't come home at all?"

Harry was silent as he registered all of this. Arthur had a point. It was a fraction easier to run off and save the world when you were childless.

"I think you're making a good choice."

Arthur was taken aback. "Truly? I was prepared for full blown rage."

Harry shook his head, smiling sadly. "I read that manuscript I stole from you. I'll stand by every choice you make, unless it's suicidal, mind you. In this case, your decision is the opposite. I couldn't watch Mary and Kingsley grow up without their father."

Arthur sat wordlessly, with a fresh love for his best friend.

He was unable to say anything else, as Adelaide and Carlisle made their entrance.

*****

Tension filled the room after Arthur voiced his decision to the other two. Harry stood next Arthur, stoically showing his support of the writer.

"A doctor is necessary for this excursion; however no one said it must be you, Arthur. I know of plenty along the way, I'm sure we will manage just fine." Carlisle nodded, as he accepted Arthur's choice. "I have yet to meet your children, but they are exceedingly lucky to have such a devoted father."

Adelaide had been quiet. She was surprised with herself that she hadn't foreseen this decision, and she could never bring herself to potentially cause the death of two young children's father, who had so recently also lost their mother. Disappointed, but determined, she stood and hugged him.

"You have no obligation to participate in the investigation, and I would never force you. I want Mary and Kingsley to always have their father to turn to."

The overwhelming acceptance of what Arthur had last night believed would culminate in the end of this friendship staggered him.

He would do everything in his power to make sure the other three were prepared for what lie ahead. The guilt would consume him later, he knew. Remorse would be a constant, no matter his whereabouts. It would be a twin to the anxiety he constantly struggled with regarding his children, and now due to Harry, Carlisle and Adelaide possibly going to their deaths.

He contacted everyone he knew that would be of assistance over the next few days, thankful for once that the mere mention of his name inspired such helpfulness.

The evening before his three friends were due to leave, Arthur invited them to dinner. He was terrified that this may be the one of the last times he saw one, or all, of them. He put on a brave face for his children and his friends benefit. Of course the three adults knew better, but played along.

Harry did some of his more complex illusions for Mary and Kingsley, and also Carlisle, who became something of a child when Harry did any magic, thrilling them to no end.

Adelaide found Arthur towards the end of the night, staring into the fire.

"Please do not trouble your thoughts with our wellbeing; we've found ourselves in tougher quandaries. We have the entirety of Scotland Yard's support, as well as Hungary's government; we are going to end this, and come home."

Arthur pulled her close. "I'm holding you to that, Adelaide. I'm not burying anyone else."

Adelaide drew away gently, smiling. "No you aren't. We all have far too much to live for."

Arthur saw Harry and Adelaide out the door, with the promise of seeing them off tomorrow. Carlisle hung back.

"Arthur, I fear I must burden you with a favor, if you wouldn't mind," he said, handing him an envelope.

"Of course," Arthur accepted it, curious.

"It's my will. In the event anything should happen over there; I do have a few remaining relatives in Britain. My real name is Warren Rutger, but please don't mention it to anyone. The longer I stay undercover, the safer it will be for the three of us. Merring still has my contacts, so just hand to him if I don't return. If that's the case, don't let people keep Adelaide down, she's one hell of a police officer."

He shook Arthur's hand. "It was a pleasure working with you Doctor Doyle, if only for a month; I look forward to reading more of your new works when I can."

Arthur managed a small smile. "I daresay you will be disappointed. Holmes is staying dead."

Carlisle laughed, "Damn shame. But I mean all of your works. The Great Boer War was a compelling read."

He left Arthur with a stunned expression, and a renewed desire to write.

*****

It was a decidedly warm summer day laden with sunshine that witnessed the separation of friends. Arthur was fighting a desire to demand that they all stay put and let some higher power deal with the threat in Hungary. The guilt had already made itself a permanent resident in the pit of his stomach, but he brushed it aside in favor of putting on a good show.

The train whistle blew. He pulled Adelaide into a tight hug, shook Carlisle's hand and stood face to face with Harry.

"Don't make this grim, Doc," Harry eyes were shining with un-spilled tears.

"You are coming home, Ehrich. There is no question. You are not to get injured in some God-forsaken place where I cannot aid you. Do you understand me?"

Harry beamed, not able to hold back his tears now. "Damn right Arthur. I'm not about to let a terrorist do what one my illusions should be responsible for."

"Keep Adelaide safe. I don't give a damn if she yells about women's rights, protect her. Don't butt heads with Carlisle either. He's exactly the man he seems to be."

"Absolutely, any more directions, Doc?" his laugh was thick with emotion.

"Yes. Come home. All of you."

Arthur returned home, dismissed Vera for the day, and he grieved.

When his children returned home from school, they both keenly sensed how much pain their father was in. They made dinner to the best of their abilities and brought it to him in his study. He pulled them tight, knowing he had made the right decision, but also knowing it would eat away at him until the day his friends returned, dead or alive.

That night, Arthur kept his children with him in his bed. He had only allowed this one other time, when Touie had passed. They had needed him then, but now it was them who were needed, by their father.

*****

The compartment where the three had settled was haunted by the ghost of someone who should be there, and the three friends were acutely aware.

Harry couldn't look at the other two yet. Arthur had remained by his side for every weird case, to debate with and to discover the truth. Leaving him behind was harder than Harry could've imagined. He did not resent the other's decision, and knew in the end, whatever the outcome, Kingsley and Mary would not be orphans. He took a small comfort in that knowledge, and would carry that little glimmer of hope through the tough trial that lay ahead.

Carlisle was quiet; he would not encroach on Adelaide and Harry's distress. He had been accepted into the circle with scarcely a hitch, much to his amazement. The four had bonded quickly, but he would not pretend to know their sorrow for leaving behind an integral part of their group. Occasionally he would chance a glance at one or the other, and he understood their growing apprehension.

Adelaide was perhaps the most upset. She had gone from detesting their constant presence, to feeling lost when Arthur was not there to share his logic and advice. But Carlisle and Harry were more than she could've hoped for in terms of associates, and she was optimistic about the outcome. With the amount of support that had been aroused, they had everything they needed to shut the operation down.

Except for their location, and the main conspirators, thought Adelaide sullenly. The group had concealed their tracks well, over a decade of movements and operations had only now been uncovered.

After two tense days, they arrived in Budapest. The trio was to meet with the Prime Minister and his advisors the next day, bringing along their own ragtag group of assistants, mostly made up of Scotland Yard detectives.

Gleaming in the setting sun, Sándor Palace grew large as the carriage rolled up the long drive. An odd silence fell over the three of them, as they realized this was the start of something greater than any of them had ever faced. Harry hadn't recalled anything from his brief life in Hungary, but something about the palace jarred his memory.

"Only three to enter," a guard with very poor English greeted them at the gate. He inclined his head towards the rest of their contemporaries. "Friends will wait."

Adelaide regarded the rest of their group. She couldn't argue with the guard, but she needed to show the Prime Minister the force she had brought along. She seized their translator; a contact of Carlisle's that they had picked up in Vienna.

"You enter?" the guard looked at Carlisle, puzzled.

"Uh, one moment," Carlisle answered in his best Hungarian, which was terrible. The guard was even more confused now. The translator rushed up to the gate guard, and immediately eased the situation.

A few moments later, the whole company was allowed entry.

"That wasn't the best entrance, we were disordered," Adelaide growled, irritated. Scotland Yard would be thrown out of Hungary and off of the investigation if she wasn't careful.

"Eh, we have managed fairly well up until now. Just a snag," Carlisle gripped the translator, and pulled him alongside the trio. "Stay with us, András. We're going to need you."

They were shown to the Red Salon, where the Prime Minister stood as the center of a fanned group of somber men. Intimidating, Carlisle smiled to himself, a scare tactic?

The English delegation fanned out similarly, as Carlisle had planned; a show of force, daring to be reckoned with.

Prime Minister Eszes approached the front three, and bowed only a little, an insult.

Carlisle observed the slight, but bowed appropriately anyhow. He gave his most welcoming smile, already heartily disliking this man. "Prime Minister Eszes."

"Mr. Carlisle, I presume?" The Minister inquired, speaking English with little difficulty.

"I am indeed, Mr. Minister. I must say, I am pleasantly surprised to learn that you speak English fluently. Our planning will progress smoothly."

The Minister only nodded, turning his attention to Adelaide and Harry.

"A female officer and a magician," he said, a sardonic smile forming. He considered the rest of the group. "What a strange gathering to form, sent here to tear down an extremist institution. Scotland Yard has so kindly appropriated an investigation that would generally be dealt with internally. They so desired to have you three investigate, instead of the law enforcement already established here. Given that, I expected a far more impressive congregation. I find I am disappointed."

The tension was palpable; and Adelaide could barely control her fury. Luckily Harry was keeping uncharacteristically quiet, although she could feel his anger. Carlisle had thought it best that she and Harry keep mostly silent during the initial meeting, and however frustrating, Adelaide was inclined to agree with that idea now. The Prime Minister was thoroughly archaic.

Despite his apparent misgivings, the Prime Minister invited them to dinner to discuss their strategy. While only Harry, Adelaide and Carlisle were permitted to enter, the entirety of the Hungarian congregation was present.

The dinner went surprisingly well, though she was permitted no quarter to speak. Adelaide found it was easier to break barriers in England, rather than some foreign country she'd most likely never return to. Women had their work cut out for them here, if the other men of this nation were anything like their Prime Minister. Despite all of this, Adelaide was beginning to feel more at ease.

That was until Prime Minister Eszes finally spoke to Harry.

"So Mr. Houdini,â€ he started, his voice adopting the unctuous tone from earlier. "I have been informed that you were truly born right here in Budapest! Your surname is Weisz, am I incorrect?"

Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts; indeed it was on the surface an innocuous question. Something malicious lurked in the Minister's tone however.

"You were correctly informed Minister."

"Ah, I thought so. We are proud to have such a world-renowned identity be of Hungarian birth. Perhaps you would be so kind as to regale us with some magic later on in the evening?"

"My apologies, Mr. Minister," Harry felt an odd fury, though he was unsure the reason. "When we first met just an hour ago, you were rather contemptuous of my ability to assist in this investigation."

The entire table tensed, and Adelaide felt her former ease falter. She threw him a warning look, but he was intensely focused on the minister. Carlisle fidgeted beside her, obviously at war with himself. He caught her eyes and mouthed, _Should I say something?_

The Minister smiled ominously. "Mr. Houdini, I am always skeptical of those brought in to my country from the outside world, I'm sure you can understand. I was not aware you were to be assisting in the investigation; I thought your presence was merely a gift of the alliance."

That was more than enough for Harry. "I always pondered why my father chose to leave this country. I can see now it was because of the twisted politics and the fools left in charge of them! You are the sorriest excuse for a leader this country could ever have the misfortune to be offered."

The Minister's face darkened rapidly, rage blooming in his ice blue eyes.

"Out." It was all that needed to be said, before Harry was escorted from of the palace.

The Minister turned to Carlisle and Adelaide, sinister smile forming once again, "Would you care to join your companion, and leave this investigation to this city's police force?"

Carlisle simpered; he wouldn't allow the Hungarians to force him out. "No, Mr. Minister. Forgive us; Mr. Houdini does have a bit of a temper. We'd hoped he would rein it in slightly for this visit. I can't imagine what triggered him!" By the end his voice had become so unlike his own that Adelaide kicked him under the table.

However, this appeased the Minister; he nodded and raised his glass. "To professionalism."

Carlisle and Adelaide raised their glasses in response, both with a new founded burning hatred for this man.

The next half hour passed without much incident, finally culminating with the Minister revealing the location of the base. The duo's incredulous expressions amused the Minister to no end.

"I suppose you are wondering why I have not sent anyone in," he grinned maliciously. "We have. The truth is, why waste more precious Hungarian lives, when the English will so willingly march to their doom? I would be severely shocked if any of you returned alive, indeed we have sent so many agents, infiltrators, and even soldiers to counter this threat, no one of which have returned. We are at the precipice of sending in the military full force, but I am willing to wait to be humored by your failure."

At this, the door to the salon crashed open, and a regal figure swept up to the dining table. Carlisle inhaled sharply. Adelaide threw him a questioning look, but he was saved from answering by the herald.

"Emperor Franz Joseph I of Austria."

Adelaide shared in Carlisle's surprise, and both snickered discreetly at the Minister's terror.

An impressive sight, the Emperor took no note of the two of them, and instead bore down on the Minister.

"Artúr, I am disappointed. I had to learn of England's arrival from a lowly servant, which, and I am sure you will join in my confusion, is not the way I generally learn of such things." He turned back to Carlisle and Adelaide and smiled warmly. The Minister looked positively horrified.

"Please forgive your cold host, Artúr was never one for entertaining, but he is a fine politician. I'm sure you were treated with respect?"

Carlisle and Adelaide were prone to agree, not wanting to create more rifts. The Emperor was the opposite of his Prime Minister, although they could both detect a deep sadness in his eyes. He revealed that he was hesitant to send his military into the base, citing that it would be likely that many innocents in the surrounding area would be caught in the cross fire.

"This may be an odd question in the middle of battle plans, but I was under the impression that Harry Houdini would be a member of this delegation?"

The two of them had to fight laughter as the Prime Minister clumsily explained why he had sent the man away. The Emperor was not pleased. He then divulged to them that he was an enthusiastic fan of the magician.

*****

Despite being the middle of summer in England, Harry was sure it was the middle of winter here. After being unceremoniously thrown from the palace grounds, he had no choice but to wander Budapest. Night had fallen, and it had become impossibly colder. He shivered, having no means to access his winter jacket that he had so foolishly left at the Savoy.

He was unsure just how far he had walked, but he was undoubtedly surrounded by people who spoke anything but English. Perhaps he should have learned Hungarian from his parents, or maybe just snatched András before he made the door.

He had to admit, it was a beautiful city. He stopped when he was at the edge of the Danube, staring up at the bridge spanning it, brightly lit against the pitch black night. Across the wild river he could see the skyline of the inner city. He suddenly had an inclination to walk the length of the bridge, and see where he could end up.

He was stuck. Part of him wanted to do just that, just get lost in the city where he was born. Maybe he could find the cemetery where his relatives were buried. How many Weisz's could there be?

_Probably a thousand_ , he thought sourly. What was he doing? Here he was looking at a city that had done nothing for him, and he had become emotional. There was no one for him here; his family was in New York.

And his best friend in London.

He turned on his heel and marched back to the palace. He would break in if he wasn't allowed through the front door, dammit.

*****

Adelaide was furious. She and Carlisle had argued privately in the Blue Salon. The Emperor had suggested that Carlisle, a master spy, could infiltrate the compound with ease. He could speak German which was not out of place, and he possessed the skill to blend in easily. Carlisle agreed without apparent thought.

This had not been the plan. They were never to split up, and yet Carlisle was preparing to go underground again while Harry was AWOL. Adelaide felt control of the situation slipping right out her hands, and she wasn't sure how to regain it. She would not beg Carlisle to stay, but she felt that this might be his last assignment. There wasn't a good track record for anyone attempting to dismantle the group from the inside.

She thought longingly of Arthur, and her promise to bring everyone home safe.

_I'm not going to be able to keep that promise, it seems_ ,thought Adelaide as she watched the Minister send a cryptic message with András to the base. It was a forewarning of the coming of a ruthless killer determined to join their ranks. Adelaide had assumed a more unorthodox method of recruiting would be more this group's technique. According to the Minister, Carlisle would be on probation until he proved himself useful, which most likely would involve murdering someone. Adelaide was close to protesting but Carlisle drew her aside again.

"Please, Adelaide. I know I am walking straight into Hell's flames, but we have a rare opportunity here. I possess the training from Scotland Yard that will allow me easy access to steal information that will prove useful to us. It's far better than just barging in with no idea what could happen. This isn't the first time I've gone underground with these people, I have established credibility in the States."

"There is a fair chance you will never leave there! This unit went undetected for decades before we became aware of them, and then another decade passed before we even became privy to their base. They are incredibly clever and strategic. We haven't the intelligence yet to determine the ideal method to approach them. Although the Emperor and The Prime Minister feel this is the best course of action, that is far from a sound reason to try this!"

"I don't think you have much faith in me. I lived underground for nearly a decade without detection. That has been my life for so long; I do not believe I quite remember how to live normally. Please trust me Adelaide," he pleaded with her. She finally relented, hoping she would not regret it later. Carlisle smiled and hugged her. She felt a little lurch in her stomach, but resolutely ignored it.

They returned to the salon, and two hours later, András returned with the letter from the extremists.

"Well, Mr. Carlisle," the Minister sneered. "They are welcoming you with open arms, as well as daggers I'm sure. You are to arrive unarmed."

Carlisle nodded, smiled again at Adelaide, and bowed to the Minister and Emperor.

"Succeed, and there will be a knighthood awaiting you," the Emperor smiled warmly, although Adelaide could certainly perceive his anxiety. "Do not engage them yourself, we will find a way to extract you, and send the military in per your information on the best course of action."

With one last glance at Adelaide, Carlisle was gone.

*****

Arthur was planted in his usual spot in front of his typewriter, thirteen pages already of his next work written. He had woken, terrified, at the crack of dawn that day, just like every day since they had left.

Sleeping for maybe four hours a day had run him ragged, but when he did sleep he was inundated with nightmares. So he sat, and he wrote. The children threw sidelong glances at Vera, but she dismissed them and sent them on their way.

Kingsley and Mary would not be deterred so easily however. Surreptitiously they were working on two little projects for their father. Kingsley had inherited his father's writing prowess, and set to writing his own novel. Mary researched medicine from her father's extensive library, determined to prove she would be a capable doctor. Though not as skilled as her brother with words, she wrote her own medical essay on tuberculosis.

One night, three weeks after their father said goodbye to his friends, Mary and Kingsley presented him with their projects face down on his desk, huge smiles in place.

"What are these?" Arthur turned the pages that had been gifted him over to read them. He didn't receive an answer, just some silent prodding from his children.

Virtue and Vice, Arthur silently read the title of Kingsley's short story. It was about twelve pages long, and skimming through it, he caught Adelaide and Harry's names floating from the pages. It was a murder mystery. Arthur laughed, delighted. "Kingsley! This is fantastic! When did you write this?"

"It took me about two weeks. I was trying to remember the cases you solved with Mister Houdini and Constable Stratton, but I didn't want to ask, because it would give the surprise away."

Arthur thanked him and turned to Mary's project, which looked strikingly similar to the dissertations he would enter into various medical journals. Noting the subject material, Arthur felt a tightening in his stomach. He smiled sadly as he read the three page essay, thoroughly researched with possible treatments.

Arthur grabbed his children and pulled them close. He had been neglecting them since the others had departed and the constant guilt he endured rose up and gnawed at him. The rest of the night, he sat in front of the parlor fireplace helping them with their homework, when it came to the French and German assignments he froze.

"I will have to hire a tutor, this makes little sense."

"You could learn too, Father," Kingsley smiled.

"Oh, yes please! Then we could have secret conversations!" Mary laughed.

"Oh, I suppose I _could_ , I'm really not quite that old, now am I?" Arthur mused.

Mary and Kingsley looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"You think me old? How rude," Arthur laughed and hoisted them both up. He was surprised at his own strength; he hadn't held them at the same time since they were toddlers. "Am I still decrepit?"

They shook their heads, giggling.

He let them slide down, laughing. "Okay, that's enough horseplay. Time to for you to get ready for bed," he waved them from the room.

As they went upstairs, Arthur glanced in his study. Shaking his head, he grabbed the papers they had written and put out the fire.

That night he read them Kingsley's story, Arthur silently noting his son's skill.

He readied himself for bed, and made a mental note to have pleasant dreams for once.

The next morning, he awoke late. Rushing downstairs he found Vera cleaning up the children's breakfast.

"Oh! Doctor Doyle, there you are. Kingsley and Mary are off to school."

"Thank you Vera. Forgive me, I overslept."

"Good." Vera nodded, maternally.

"Beg pardon?" Arthur sat down, bewildered.

Vera set a heaping plate in front of him, far more than what he would normally request, which was very little.

"You can't fool me, Doctor Doyle. You have not been sleeping nor eating; spending all your days in that infernal study, wasting away in front of that typewriter. Well, no more. You had better finish that," she finished sternly.

She swept from the room and Arthur was left still perplexed. Vera had never spoken to him in that manner, almost like a mother would her son. Smirking, he dug in.

It was a testament to Vera's analysis that Arthur felt over full and oddly surreal as he went for a morning stroll. The day was very warm, but breezy. He greeted neighbors who were surprised to see him about.

_Perhaps you were right, Harry. I should venture out more_ , Arthur thought, enjoying the summer morning. This weekend he would take the children to the park.

Before long, he found himself shuttered in his study again, having fielded Vera's glares. He was a writer, so this is where he belonged, surely.

Two hours later found him reclining with his pipe and a scotch. He had written one paragraph. "I think you may have been incorrect, Vera," he spoke aloud to no one.

"Very rarely am I," Vera knocked on the open door of his study, witnessing a flushed Doctor Doyle. She permitted herself a grin. "You have some mail, as well Mr. Houdini's."

She handed him a thick stack of letters "Thank you, Vera." His hands were trembling as they always did now, hoping for some form of communication from his friends.

He flipped through the stack quickly; only one interesting thing of note caught his eyes, a letter from Theo to Harry.

He hesitated momentarily. Harry had per missed him to open letters from family, in case of an emergency. Even with that permission, Arthur didn't feel comfortable opening the letter. He was not privy to every secret of Ehrich's life, however much he'd like to think so.

Forcing his nerve, he slit the envelope.

_Ehrich,_

_I am unsure whether this will reach you before you depart, I imagine it will not. Before you panic, everyone is perfectly healthy. However, I am heart broken. The young lady I was_ _courting when you met family here has quit me, stating that she loves another. I have accepted her decision, who am I to stand in the way of love? I believe you don't think so, but you_ _gave your hand away over the course of the few days you were with us. It was painfully evident to everyone that you had fallen for Bess, and she for you. I will admit, it took me a_ _few days after she ended her relationship with me before I could write this, as the fury made it difficult to write legibly. Indeed, I still find it taxing. As always women rarely find_ _you disenchanting, remember Elsie? I do. Another fine woman you stole from me. I only hope that if you do begin a relationship with Bess, that you do not leave her on the sidelines,_ _as you've done with many others. Because if you do impart that pain in her heart, I will never forgive you. Aside from all that lovely news, if you have not already departed, keep safe in Hungary_ _Mother and Father were wise to leave such an unstable area._

_Come home, Ehrich, you have a hell of a reason._

_All my love, and apparently Bess' as well,_

_Dash_

Arthur had had to reread the letter several times in astonishment. It was hard not to laugh, he had an image in his head of Theo furiously writing this, but he felt ashamed at his mirth, considering Bess had left him.

Cautiously refolding the letter, he almost wanted to reseal the envelope, but was unsure how.

He protectively placed the letter among a few other important correspondences inside of a hollowed book in his bookshelf.

Placing a record on his gramophone, Arthur re-lit his pipe.

He had novel to write.


End file.
